


No Such Thing as Freedom

by Dangersocks



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Bloodstone Circle, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Cecil Is a Good Boyfriend, Healthy Relationships, Life in Night Vale, M/M, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay, Sex Magic, Telepathic Bondage, Threesome - M/M/M, Verbal Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 17:37:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1696736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangersocks/pseuds/Dangersocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There is no such thing as freedom on earth," he said. "Only different kinds of bondages. And comparative bondages. YOU think you are free now because you've escaped from a peculiarly unbreakable kind of bondage. But are you? You love me - THAT'S a bondage.”<br/>― L.M. Montgomery, <i>The Blue Castle</i></p><p>Earl is hard to tie up. This is a problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Such Thing as Freedom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [M_Moonshade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_Moonshade/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Waltz for Three](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184060) by [M_Moonshade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_Moonshade/pseuds/M_Moonshade). 



> I was halfway through and I realized that being based on [**The Return of Scoutmaster Harlan**](http://archiveofourown.org/series/70845), I had already contradicted myself re: Carlos having seen Earl tied up once.
> 
> So...pretend they all forgot. In the Great Forgetting. Yup. You remember that, right? Man in a Tan Jacket...then some stuff happened...I was completely innocent of all contradictory story-lines. It was a good day. You have to trust me on that. (What do you mean I shouldn't remember that either? Uh... _oh...oh damn..._ )
> 
> \----
> 
> For **[Moonshade](http://archiveofourown.org/users/M_Moonshade/pseuds/M_Moonshade)**. Thank you for always reading my stories with such enthusiasm. I'll still feel like a burden every time I call for personal reasons. But at least there's often porn?!
> 
> And for all of you out there who feel tethered to things you aren't entirely happy about. And to all of you others who want something special to be tethered to. 
> 
> We are, all of us, togethered. I hope you're all okay in the end.

* * *

 

 

Cecil steps into the living room just in time to hear Carlos shout, “ _Earl!_ ”

 

It is not the kind of cry that follows an orgasm, and the follow-up muffle of the Scout’s response is unintelligible. Cecil thinks he hears the tone of an apology or a quest of appeasement. Carlos is generally easy-going, so perhaps in tidying up there had been a casualty of some experiment.

 

“No, they’re playing bondage games.”

 

The Faceless Old Woman speaks up from the closet as Cecil pulls out a hanger. She’s sorted the coats again. Her tone suggests that she is hoping that Cecil will be troubled by his boyfriends fraternizing without him, but the radio host is tired. He has no energy to spare for deciphering how the coats are now being arranged, or whether he is getting his share of fair time with either man.

 

The quick answer is that he is _not_ jealous. He shrugs a shoulder, aware that he has his quota of fun often enough. Bondage has also become a staple flavour of their coitus, so he is unsurprised.

 

Then Carlos rounds the corner, half dressed with a perfect coat covering his exposed chest. Clearly, he is _not_ bound. His brow is pinched and his teeth are hidden. “Oh, Cecil,” he greets, genuinely surprised at the arrival.

 

“Carlos! It’s...well…” Earl’s voice flows down the stairs, supplicating. “I can show you how to improve on the knots.”

 

Cecil waits until they are all together. Earl also chirps a greeting when he discovers Cecil.

 

But Carlos frowns, happily distracted by the change in closet organization.

 

“Anything I should know?” Cecil asks.

 

“Earl’s hard to tie up, but it’s fine,” mutters Carlos, certainly not fine.

 

The Scout helplessly shrugs. “I’m offering to help. If Cecil isn’t too tired, we can work on knots together…”

 

It’s a plea of sorts. And Cecil has no problem with being helpful. None at all.

 

Carlos sighs, nodding as he is slowly won over. Earl relaxes and flashes a gratuitous smile at them both.

 

“Typical,” snipes a voice from the closet, alone again. She is going to take all of the things from their pockets. Wallets, keys and coins. She’s only going to leave the crumpled receipts. She’ll add more crumpled receipts. It’s genius, her plans. And how it was always meant to be...

 

\--

 

Cecil walks through a wall and stops. He holds back the imminent panic. Walls are important. Valued, in how they keep things in or out. He shouldn’t be finding ways to pass through solid matter. That is how accidents happen.

 

But the hallway is _his_ hallway. The smells are the smells of his home. Cecil exhales, turning to where the wall exists. He does what Carlos would do and touches it.

 

Solid.

 

Well...how is he going to get back to work now? The show is soon and while he is clocked-in and being paid, he is not present.

 

“Carlos?”

 

There is a noise from the bedroom, and Cecil hears the caramel tone of his boyfriend stutter, “Cecil? What are you…”

 

The door is slightly open. The radio personality pushes it further and finds Carlos and Earl on the bed. Carlos is getting up and Earl is cross-legged on the sheets. Both are attentive at the unexpected arrival.

 

“Sorry. I walked into a wall. Ended up here,” explains Cecil. “I can’t go back the way I came, though. I may need a ride. Could I borrow your Coup?”

 

Inhaling pointedly, Carlos turns his back on the bed and crosses the room. “I’ll be happy to drive you. It’s something I’m capable of, at least.”

 

Cecil glances at Earl, finding the snub to be uncharacteristic of Carlos.

 

The red-head flushes, his lip sucking into his teeth. “It’s not your fault, Carlos. _Please_ …”

 

“Everything alright?” Cecil quests, careful. A little concerned.

 

Scooping up his keys, found only this morning after several days of being missing, Carlos reminds Cecil that his show is soon.

 

Earl too, waves Cecil off. “We can talk about it later.”

 

Because Cecil _is_ a reporter and now presented with a mystery, he gives the room a final scan before he follows in the Scientist’s wake. There is lube and a few toys displayed, let free from their usual confines. And the bedposts have silk rope knotted around them. Loose and dangling but unattached to anything. Earl is topless, but fidgeting.

 

“We _will_ talk about this later,” Cecil warns.

 

The half-grin that Earl gives Cecil is sardonic -- helpless and glad. “Text us if you do get in trouble for being late. You had better hurry.”

 

In the Coup, Carlos drives faster than recommended. He often does so when frustrated, and yet the excuse of getting Cecil back to work suits the Scientist just fine.

 

“So…” prompts Cecil. “I apologize for interrupting anything…” He is fishing for information and it is hardly a secret.

 

Carlos stares directly ahead and scowls. “No knot is good enough. Scientifically speaking, Earl is impossible to tie up. The last time we practiced on you was a waste of time.”

 

Cecil shrugs. “I like to think it wasn’t in vain. I had a very good time.”

 

His driver steals a glance away from the stop sign he is planning to blow through. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply…”

 

Cecil waves the concern away. “You had a handle on how to tie the various knots by the end of that. Maybe more practice?”

 

“I’ve been practicing in the lab, between experiments. But Earl is a Scout,” Carlos sighs, pulling into the parking spot in front of Cecil’s station. Based on the wristwatch Cecil wears, if the host starts running now he will probably arrive just seconds before he goes on the air. “Apparently even the best knots don’t hold Scouts though I can’t explain why that is.”

 

“We really have never tied Earl up before, have we?” Cecil realizes.

 

“Go,” commands his boyfriend. “And that’s exactly it. But worry later. Get out. Good luck.”

 

Cecil does run. But that doesn’t mean he can’t consider the conundrum as he sprints up stairs and through doors.  

 

And through walls, again, apparently. He ends up missing his show completely.

 

(Unfortunately, he is not so fortunate to end up at home for a second time…)

 

\--

 

The day the cast comes off from his wall-walking adventures, Cecil and Carlos decide to celebrate by tying up Earl together. The Scout is hesitant, but insists that it has nothing to do with him being bothered in any way with participating as the bound one. Cecil draws on the few knots he knows, aware that Earl has taught Carlos more varieties of bondage. The Scientist is very creative with what he’s learned and really has mastered the skill during work hours.

 

Earl lies on the bed with his wrists together and arms criss-crossed by bindings in a elegantly regal way. It pushes his arms behind his head, arching his spine. They have also folded his knees under him, using more rope to bind his ankles to his thighs in more zig-zagging patterns. His muscles are defined, pushing out in the pose as he kneels on the bed. His briefs want for attention. His chest needs to be touched.

 

Carlos and Cecil step back to admire their handiwork, still undecided as to blindfolds or gags. For some reason, Carlos hadn’t planned this far ahead.

 

“Are you stuck?” he asks.

 

Earl hesitates, before giving a tentative pull. “Yup,” he grunts, straining. Flexing. “I’m stuck.”

 

Carlos’ expression blooms into relief. Cecil finds himself smiling, caught up in the way Carlos grows excited -- determined. Oh, this will be _fun_...

 

But then Earl flinches. The hesitation returns. “Actually…”

 

The redactment is small. The tiniest of sounds. Earl hasn’t sounded so weak and ashamed since...well, the whole StrexCorp fiasco. And when Earl shifts again, the rope loosens and uncoils and he glances away as if willing the world to end. Just this once. Just on cue.

 

Carlos stiffens, and then gives up on looking surprised. “Of course,” he murmurs instead.

 

“I’m sorry. I really can’t lie, but...it means so much to you.” Earl pulls his wrists free, rocking to the side and unlocking whatever point binds his legs. Those ties loosen too. “It’s due to my training. I can’t _not_ know how to get out. But we can put these back on and I can pretend if that will help. It’s really nothing you’re doing wrong, Carlos. I’m sorry.”

 

The Scientist glances away, scratching an arm and shaking his head. “No...it’s...fine. Everything’s fine. We’ll just do it like this. That’s fine.”

 

Cecil reaches out and tugs at a sleeve of Carlos’ perfect coat, predominantly puzzled by the complex emotions emanating from his boyfriends -- one lover is troubled, the other contrite. “Why is tying Earl up so important to you?”

 

Carlos sighs, a heavy sound. “You both have tied me up.”

 

Earl tips his head, attentive. Cecil nods.

 

Carlos continues. “It was new to me. Kind of a big step. And the things I experienced, having to trust you two, having to communicate what I wanted...if you allowed for that, and hoping you’d listen and comply...even if you took your time, it was...well, wonderful. Agonizing. Frightening, despite the measures of love and safety you both took to remind me of those things. I just...I just realized that sex involving bondage made me think a lot about life. Or what we perceive as the existence of life. Of our place in Night Vale. It’s often terrifying, how vulnerable and exposed we are. And how our wishes mean nothing if there is no benevolent force to hear us -- which there isn’t, because Science cannot prove it. And yet, during sex, that awful sense of casting your body to the whims of fate is a _good thing_. Because I do believe you want what I want. And you will give what I need, even if it is not timed to when I ask. It’s scary, but the sex is astounding because of that fear. Because of that _trust_. And...well, you gave that experience to me. And we’ve done it with Cecil. But Earl, I don’t know if I can reproduce that for you. This isn’t like writing a report. I want you to behold it as I have. Which, unfortunately means that even if you pretended or played along, it  _won’t_ be the same. You have to feel helpless to understand it. But Earl, you are _never_ helpless. You are resourceful and clever and very talented. After even coming back from non-existence, I don’t know how to give you that same experience, and I’m sorry. It’s me. I’m letting this bother me more than I should. You’re right in that it’s not my fault, or anyone’s. I just need to let go and accept that this is an experiment that will always be inconclusive. It’s strange, but bondage helped me consolidate my relationship with Night Vale and the vast and sometimes harsh reality of...well, reality.”

 

“Life is terrifying,” Cecil finds himself humming.

 

Earl glances at the ropes and deflates. “I appreciate what you’re wanting to share with me, but I really don’t think any knot is going to hold me in the way you want it to. If it helps, I _do_ trust you. I trust you and Cecil completely. And I am often terrified, but it’s usually about outside variables taking one of you from me.”

 

“This mood is pretty...uh, unsettling,” the radio host quietly comments. “Could we just lie down together? Maybe nestle? All this talk of loss and malevolence…”

 

Carlos snorts. “I’m sorry, Cecil. Cuddling _is_ a good idea.”

 

And so they snuggle close to one another, Carlos trying not to think on one side of Earl. Cecil starting _to_ think, possessing the other side of the Scout.

 

\--

 

Earl leaves to spend a day hiking with his troop. Carlos ends up overseeing another survey of the Whispering Forest. With both away from the house, Cecil gets to work in the bedroom. He pulls out a box from the closet, and then needs to call Old Woman Josie so she can confirm the proper procedures he barely remembers from before several re-educations.

 

Finally, he borrows Earl’s hairbrush.

 

By evening, he serves them supper as they unload about their day. A lot of running has happened for both the Scout and the Scientist and when Cecil proposes they play around before bed, he is concerned that the request will be denied.

 

Earl glances nervously at Carlos. Carlos meets the glance, less troubled and more sheepish. Time is (finally) doing its part again with mending wounds.

 

Cecil grins. “I have something in mind.”

 

\--

 

“Earl, could you lie on the bed?”

 

In the lamplight of the room, the Scout raises a single brow at Cecil before he complies. His sprawl showcases his wiry muscles. He is only sporting a pair of Cecil’s borrowed briefs and his tanned skin battles against a more protected paleness that outlines what his uniform generally covers.

 

Carlos is leaning against the drawer, pulling his socks free. Once that task is complete, the Scientist will be in just his lab coat. He always wears that coat, which Cecil is grateful for.

 

“You said you had a plan?” Carlos asks.

 

“Oh Carlos, Dear...we’re deferring to _your_ plans.”

 

The Scientist peers up. “But I don’t have a plan.”

 

Cecil bites back a grin, bubbling with his excitement. “Actually...you did. Before, I believe. With Earl. Oh, by the way…” He points at the patiently waiting Scout, “you can’t move.”

 

Earl frowns. He doesn’t move. And then he frowns deeper. “Wait...what? How…”

 

The withheld grin is getting harder to control. Cecil pulls Carlos into a hug, simultaneously presenting the bed to the other. “I did a thing. And it worked! I made a bloodstone circle trap under the bed. And it’s synced to Earl. I mean, if that’s okay with you, Earl. If we say it, he _has_ to do it. If you want to tie him up now, you can.”

 

Carlos opens his mouth, and then glances again at Cecil’s exuberant expression before he drops to a knee to peer at the carpet under their bed. The stones are glowing. “You really can’t move?” he asks Earl.

 

Earl opens his mouth and then shuts it too, brows knit. Concentration. A few muscles twitch but his limbs obey the command. He blinks as if unable to process the experience. “I...I really _can’t_ move. This is weird.”

 

“But you’re alright with this?” Cecil asks, now as focused on the Scout’s expression as Carlos is fascinated with the layout of the stones and trying to comprehend how they work. “We can stop…”

 

“I’m good,” Earl huffs. “Really. I just...if anything happened...it’s strange knowing that I can’t get up and protect you two.”

 

“We haven’t had bedroom hound invasions in years,” Cecil comforts. “And if we’re good at this, you won’t be worried about that for very long.”

 

Carlos has moved to the other side of the bed, pulling his arms onto the sheets. “So if I told Earl to put his hands behind his head…”

 

“Do that,” Cecil confirms. And Earl does. He lifts them up and interlaces his fingers behind his neck, eyes widening at the inability to control the reaction. Cecil smirks. “Make commands instead of hypotheticals.”

 

“Spread your legs,” Carlos whispers, trying the advice. And this, Earl does too, knees folding and heels sliding along the cover.

 

“The more specific you are, the less he will interpret your instructions,” adds the radio host. “Earl, legs pulled flat. Stretch yourself out.”

 

Earl makes a startled sound as his body moves to comply. Carlos perches closer, entranced. “Neat.”

 

“Are you alright, Earl?” Cecil purrs, graciously.

 

“This is...okay, I’m aroused.” The Scout displaying himself across the bed says this unnecessarily. Both of his companions can see the growing bulge concealed less and less by the cotton it fights against.

 

“Is it just the motions of the body?” Carlos asks, reaching to ghost a finger over the exposed lines of Earl’s ribs. They are no longer protected by strong arms. Nothing is protected by strong arms. Earl huffs at the contact, despite how brief it is. “Can we use the circle to...say, make Earl _feel_ more?”

 

Earl strangles a sound in the back of his throat at the idea. Cecil circles to the other side of the bed. “I was going to surprise you with that suggestion. Yes, we can do that. Would you like to, Carlos?”

 

“I’m going to have to change my plans,” Carlos whispers, breath caught over the possibilities that are now open to him. “First, Earl, I want you to be a lot more vocal with how these plans make you feel.”

 

And Earl sputters, a cough or a laugh of incredulousness at the order. He huffs, chest expanding, hips fighting and confused against what constitutes as moving and obeying. He swallows and the sound is thick and desperate. Cecil appreciates how it makes Carlos shiver, the Scientist as excited as if he were given a new impossibility.

 

Well, perhaps this counts as an experiment.

 

“Good,” the man kneeling besides the bed says. “I’ve thought a lot about this, Earl. And now, because of Cecil, there’s so much _more_ I can do. I want to draw this out, though. So how about you don’t cum yet. You will really want to, because you’re going to feel every part that I touch. And the sensitivity will no longer wane after prolonged contact. Your nerves are not going to get bored and tired, and I plan to straddle your hips and then suck at your neck and you’re going to pull your head back for me and allow it, okay?”

 

Earl squeaks, the response warbling in his throat as it bobs in reply to the order. His head tugging back, his voice straining around a skipping, stuttered whine before he can answer a meek, frail “‘kay.”

 

Cecil feels that sound plummet to his own groin, rousing it to visible excitement. He loves how quickly Carlos has jumped aboard and had not personally expected to find this so entrancing. “Where would you like me to be?” he asks, voice low so as to not interrupt Earl’s whimpers.

 

Carlos crawls onto the edge of the bed, thoughtful. “You know, I think you should interview our dear, precious Earl to see how well he’s paying attention. If he wants to be helpful, he can suck on your fingers as you touch yourself. Maybe he’ll ask for what he would like…but only after _you_ cum.”

 

Earl grunts, hips quivering but not by much. Carlos’ weight also constrains them further. “Cecil, you’re _ah_...gonna...have to cum... _soon_ ,” he gasps. His nipples are already hard, perhaps pebbling under the expectation of having their newfound sensitivity explored.

 

Cecil descends to the corner alongside of Earl’s head, brushing the strands of hair that fall astray. “Oh, I just might, you’re too beautiful like this. You know how it is, though. Your own knots have left lovely Carlos panting and squirming and I think you enjoyed that. And you play with me for an agonizingly long time when it’s my turn to be trussed up. You’re fair game now, Love, and it’s fucking incredible.”

 

Nodding his agreement, Carlos pulls consideringly at a nipple.

 

Earl cries out, unable to bite back the sound. Forbidden to muffle his reactions. His cheeks flush at the indignity of it all, yet Cecil shushes, stroking the man’s jaw and neck soothingly.

 

“You’ve a lovely mouth, Earl. I’m going to touch it, because that’s what Carlos wants me to do. And you make perfect sounds. You’re always too quiet so it’s good to hear you. It’s nice you’re uncensored.”

 

Carlos hums his accord, scraping his teeth across Earl’s collarbone. Earl screams around Cecil’s fingers as they press into his lips and quest for the Scout’s tongue.

 

“Lick me,” the radio host murmurs.

 

Earl moans, trembling. A warm muscle touches Cecil’s two fingers with a tentative kiss before Cecil delves deeper and the tongue curls around the digits. Cecil’s thumb braces under the chin.

 

 _Brown Spire_ , it’s like a gag. Cecil’s hand is a control that presses Earl’s head further back into the pillow of his useless arms. The small administration of dominance has Cecil twitching, shoving his cock into the side of the bed because he deserves it.

 

Carlos laughs, high and breathy. “Earl, you’re being so good. You’re making Cecil needy. You are allowed to move your hips, but you are still not allowed to cum. Not yet.”

 

The sound this provokes into Cecil’s fingers is both worshipful gratitude, as well as frustrated complaint. Cecil withdraws his middle and index fingers and then pushes them back into the hot, wet space, anticipating where he can shove them next. Hoping Earl is thinking the same. Cecil’s other hand slips to his own erection, cupping it through the fabric of his own underwear. They are still not completely naked and this is phenomenally sexy.

 

“I don’t want to cum yet,” he himself murmurs. “This could last forever and I would never tire of watching you. Of hearing you with Carlos manipulating those places on your neck...oh, if he moves to your hip…”

 

Earl sobs. He may be trying to beg around the press of Cecil’s fingers.

 

“This is what Carlos _wants_ you to feel,” Cecil continues, between gasps and huffs as he tries to pace his strokes. He can feel the dark eyes of their Scientist peering at him. If he looks at the hungry, attentive leer it might be enough to knock Cecil over the edge. He teeters at the temptation. This is about Earl, but still, it is Cecil who is feeling _so much_. He understands _so much_. If he were a divining and terrible power, he would want Earl to feel _so damn much_...“You can’t have anything if we don’t allow it, Earl. And yet we want so much for you. It overwhelms us, how much you mean to us. How we like you helpless, so we can provide. So we can comfort and fill you. How we can manage your time. You depend on us, Earl. Here is better than the outside you explore. What you want in this room is more than what anything out there can promise you. Do you understand?”

 

The Scout cannot nod, his head is pushed down by magic as well as by Cecil. His hips are quaking uselessly, Carlos riding himself into the sensation. He has shifted to cover only one hip. Earl’s erection slides unfulfilled along Carlos’ leg. The Scientist brings his hand to explore the hip bone exposed beside him and the sound that inspires interrupts any other attempt to agree with Cecil’s question.

 

Earl’s eyes are tearing, rolled back in his head. His chest flutters where his ribs meet, the pulse frantic. Carlos is pressing his mouth onto that spasming artery.

 

Cecil slips the pads of his fingers across the edge of teeth, surfing the invisible waves of Earl’s keening, panting cries. In the orange glow of the lamp, those fingers glisten with saliva.

 

“I’m going to rub myself with these fingers. It’ll almost be like having your mouth on me,” Cecil growls. “Tell me you want that. Tell me you want me in your mouth.”

 

Carlos stiffens, all rapt attention. Earl mewls, shaking under the Scientist’s weight. “I _want_...Cecil, _please_ …I _can’t_.. _.I_...”

 

“We told him he can’t ask for what he wants until after you cum,” Carlos observes, voice objective, yet fascinated with the realization. It leaves Cecil chilled, that he can imagine his lover as a pragmatic force that will endlessly experiment with this. He entertains the notion, a little scared. Very turned on. “Seems your little trap is not subject to contradictions. This could be dangerous, no? I recognize that you _like_ danger, Earl.”

 

Earl yells at the headboard, chest heaving and body trying to undulate under Carlos. The Scientist grins tightly, wickedly. He flashes a glance at Cecil. “You were going to do something with your hand?”

 

Nodding dumbly at the curious tone Carlos commands, Cecil slides his fingers to the elastic border of his briefs. The action is so automatic after the instruction that Cecil wonders if he too has somehow become caught in the bloodstone circle’s trap. The potential alone leaves him shivering, while his hand envelopes warm, thick heat.

 

A pair of teeth glints, perfect like a military cemetery. Whole dead armies are still loyal to that smirk. “Earl’s waiting on _you_.”

 

 _“Please!”_ agrees the Scout. He begs with the one word, unable to say more. His head stays extended but his eyes try to move. He is waiting on Cecil. He is hinged on Cecil’s body reacting. He is mad and desperate.

 

And the sudden responsibility...

 

 _Oh God._ Great Masters! _Dear Things We Do Not Speak Of._ Cecil thinks of his sweet Scientist as frighteningly in control. He hears his independent Scout stutter urgently, sounds of helpless supplication. And he himself is the focal point, a catalyst in command of Earl’s satisfaction but having no power of his own.

 

His volume overcomes Earl’s when he feels this revelation come to a head. His head cums, warmth coating his clumsy palm and becoming trapped against his belly and the bedsheets. Cecil teeters, his shoulder supporting him over the lip the bed. He feels a hand a moment later, lovingly placed on his brow.

 

“Well done,” Carlos praises. “Earl, you may now tell us what you’d like.”

 

Earl’s words tangle at the opportunity, raw and frenzied. “Please, I need...cum, just...can you _touch me?_  Oh God, let me... _Carlos_ …”

 

“Touch you ‘how’?” Carlos simpers, his left hand pulling a nail softly down Earl’s abdomen. His right traces a loving caress down Cecil’s cheek. They have very different reactions on both of his companions. For Cecil, it is lulling. For Earl, it renders any ability to be more specific completely ineffective.

 

“ _Ahhhhohhh_ , Masters! _Please_...Gods, _Carlos. Don’t...don’t...can’t_ …”

 

“You _can_ ,” asserts Carlos. “You can take this because _I say_ you can take this. Because the circle won’t let you _not_ take it.”

 

Cecil feels a momentary tap on his nose -- Carlos seeking confirmation to this theory. The radio host raises a worn arm in a thumb’s up gesture. The circle can do this too, if they want to take this all night and all day and forever…

 

Earl hiccups. If he could move, Cecil would imagine that fevered head to be shaking side to side in denial. But all of life is an act of denial. Cecil appreciates that now. He recognizes how this works from Carlos’ point of view.

 

And even now, admirably, Earl is trying to stagger his breathing. Trying to compose himself to speak, for that may be his only way out. Impressing his handlers -- a prerequisite for a blissful end to this suffering.

 

“I want...please...could you...let me press against you, Carlos? And let it work? Can I...please…”

 

“Very good,” coos Carlos. “Cecil, should we allow this?”

 

Pulling himself up, Cecil runs a hand once more through Earl’s hair. It is his unsoiled fingers, though he plays with the idea of making Earl taste him first. He plays with a lot of ideas. “I think it’s too bland,” he responds.

 

Earl bites back a whimper. Earl fights back a fear.

 

Carlos soothes that with a whisper. “I think Cecil means that you deserve better. I think you’ve earned me sucking you off.”

 

Earl pules at the offering, his hips rising from the bed, eager.

 

Carlos licks a stripe across Earl’s left nipple, generously reminding the Scout of how that might feel _elsewhere_. “Oh...I like that. But why waste a good orgasm? Earl...you can cum for me when I put you in my mouth. But you’ll want to cum again soon after, so Cecil can suck you off too.”

 

“This is about sharing experiences,” Cecil hums into Earl’s ear. It’s possible that the Scout has stopped breathing.

 

“Would you like that?” Carlos asks, leaning to peer down the length of Earl’s body at the length waiting for a mouth. Or two...

 

“I would _please_...oh, _very much_ , I’d like... _that_ ,” Earl strains in saying. There is reverence and respect and fear and awe in the response.

 

The cruelty and the generosity that his lovers commend are what fuels the forces holding Earl down. Or so that is something that Old Woman Josie had said over the phone when Cecil had asked about the old bloodstone circle spells. If used improperly, a great deal of harm could come of them. But Earl is so strong and Cecil and Carlos know it. And they love him, while he trusts them. Josie hadn’t even consulted her angels to see if it would be wise to resurrect ancient secrets for the inquiring radio host’s personal life.

 

And reinforced by believing this, Cecil strokes Earl’s hairline while another perfect haired boyfriend kisses agonizingly intimate kisses down Earl’s trembling belly, fingers sliding across thighs that stay obediently flat. And as the protesting whines of the Scout grow sharper, Cecil swallows them gently, using his own sounds of affection to harmonize with Earl’s needs.

 

It takes moments. It could seem to take years. Everybody in the room knows that time is broken. There is no doubt that Carlos makes this feel like an eternity, still murmuring praises of how perfect that hip is. How warm Earl is. How exquisite that taste will be, Earl’s member pressed against the Scientist’s tongue.

 

“Mmmm,” hums Cecil, drawing back long enough to tease that he may be getting hard again. That Earl might have to wait…

 

“N...no,” Earl solicits. “No please.”

 

“But that’s life, isn’t it? All those plans you have, and then _other things_ get in the way…”

 

“Good thing humans are impatient,” Carlos grants, stroking the hair under Earl’s erection. The hips come alive more desperately at the touch. At the closeness. At Carlos’ dismissal of further torment. “I’ve wanted to tie you up for a long time, Earl. And it wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t, that you couldn’t allow that. Not your fault, I know. But...thanks to our boyfriends, we work around the unfairness of the world. I’m going to suck you off and I want your orgasm to be unforgettable, Earl. I want it to feel like it lasts for a very long time. And then I am going to cum to you begging for Cecil to make you feel it all over again. Do you understand?”

 

“ _Yes!_ Oh...yes, _yes please!_ ” Earl screams.

 

Carlos presses the hips down, fighting their propulsion with his own weight rather than any words or commands. And then he pulls his perfect jaw back to swirl a tongue against the underside of Earl’s cock. Cecil can’t help but commentate on how fucking attractive that is.

 

As ordered, Earl doesn’t cum until Carlos takes the swollen organ into his mouth. The release sudden as Earl weeps, unable to clutch or grab or seize against anyone. Carlos compensates by holding the shaft of Earl’s penis, while running soothing circles against his thigh with his unoccupied hand. And Cecil holds his head, murmuring promises and praises and safe returns. How he envies Carlos, who has Earl’s essence in his mouth and cheek and hair.

 

“I just...I…” mumbles the Scout, shivering. Beautiful. Unable to articulate.

 

So Cecil hushes. “We’re not done yet. Carlos hasn’t been satisfied, and that isn’t like you. He’s waiting on us, Earl. Can you be brave for me one more time?”

 

And yes. Yes Earl can.

 

\--

 

The stones are back in their box. Cecil had sluggishly paid them their due in a palmful of blood and a little more of...well, _other_ liquids. The dismantling of the circle had been simple, Cecil repeating the commands that would release Earl fully from their sway. His years as a reporter had served to help him articulate the spell just-so and he is certain there will be no misunderstood spellwords lurking around to wreak havoc on the Scout or their bed. And as Earl had tried to fall exhaustively to sleep, Carlos had tended to his needs. Water; a damp towel; long kisses meekly returned.

 

Earl snores between them now and Cecil is nearly lost to the ether when Carlos tells the darkness, “I still don’t know how they worked.”

 

Cecil moans, a little lost as to answers. He could have dreamed the question. He’s touching the edge of the dream-state now. “Nnnn, it’s just magic. What’s to explain?”

 

“Yes, but think! All of that potential. Is there a force that governs whether an individual would abuse a spell like that? Is that how they re-educate citizens? Could we put someone in the centre and tell them to live forever? Can someone be safe in the middle of a circle, from outside forces?”

 

Many things are possible. And all children are taught in Night Vale that the bloodstone circles are necessary in providing shelter against the unholy and the incomprehensible. But then, mostly that individual would never leave the circle. Safety is also a trap. Security an illusion better practiced where freedom reigns. And sometimes, Cecil forgets that Carlos isn’t from here.

 

The questions continue. Carlos sounds far from sleep. The Scientist sounds like he is ready to take the box and run off to the lab and Cecil is torn between ordering his excited lover to be silent and to seek momentary oblivion, or commenting that there has been a box of the same kind of stones in the lab since forever -- all buildings required to have a set.

 

He settles for, “you’ll wake up Earl if you keep talking.”

 

“Nothing’s going to wake up Earl. He’s really worn out.”

 

“Your fault.”

 

“Yeah. Thanks. And Cecil... _thank-you_.”

 

“Mmmmmhmmm,” the drifting radio host agrees. “You’re still thinking aren’t you?”

 

“Just...possibilities. It’s...what I do.”

 

“Then tomorrow.”

 

A sigh, slightly sad. Very happy. “If we’re lucky to have a tomorrow.”

 

“Life is uncertain and terrifying,” yawns Cecil. “Glad we all agree.”

  
  
  
  
  


 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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